Harry Potter: Returning from Azeroth

"Rest assured, James, Lily," Dumbledore said, his expression turning grave. "I will investigate this matter as thoroughly as I can and seek evidence to prove Sirius's innocence. But you must understand—the real obstacle lies with Sirius himself. He has refused to come forward. If he had spoken up back then, he wouldn't have stayed silent when he was captured."

"And it has been many years since. Without solid evidence, even I would find it exceedingly difficult to overturn the case," Dumbledore sighed, his tone heavy with regret. "Many of the events from that time have already been sealed and forgotten."

"Even with concrete evidence, it wouldn't be easy," Snape remarked sarcastically. "That Minister of Magic cares only about his approval ratings. Reopening this case would be political suicide."

"Oh, Severus, let's not be so absolute," Dumbledore replied with a gentle smile. "After all, Fudge wasn't even in office during Sirius's trial."

"Thank you so much, Professor Dumbledore," James and Lily said in unison, their gratitude evident.

"No need for thanks. Seeing justice prevail is something we all hope for," Dumbledore replied, waving their gratitude aside. Then, his expression shifted to one of curiosity. "But, after all that, might I ask a question to satisfy my curiosity?"

He looked intently at the spectral forms of James and Lily. "As far as I know, eleven years ago, neither of you lingered as ghosts after your deaths. Why, then, are you appearing in this form now?"

James and Lily exchanged a glance.

"To be honest, we're not entirely sure what we are now," James admitted candidly. "In the afterlife, Lily and I suddenly heard Harry's voice and saw him before us—and then, somehow, we were here again."

It was a perfect answer—because it left Dumbledore completely baffled.

"Harry's call?" Dumbledore turned to Harry, his eyes narrowing. "Could it be… what Mrs. Figg described? That mysterious magical ritual? The one I witnessed a few days ago—something you can summon at will?"

Harry hesitated briefly before nodding. "You could say that, Headmaster. It's… a kind of talent I have. After Hagrid took me to Diagon Alley, I read about ghosts in some wizarding books and wondered if I could see my parents. So, I tried calling them."

Harry smiled faintly. The word talent saved him from having to explain too much.

Why can't you do it? Why don't you understand?

Because you lack talent. Without it, you just won't get it.

Perfect. I was born with it!

Even Dumbledore seemed taken aback, staring at Harry as though he'd just seen a Flobberworm swallow a dragon—or Grindelwald performing ballet in Paris Square.

Snape opened his mouth to sneer, but at the sight of Lily's spirit, he stopped himself. Barely.

"I think we've found this year's recipient for the Merlin Medal," Snape muttered, his sarcasm barely masking his disbelief.

To be fair, Harry's explanation was so absurd it bordered on fantastical—even for the magical world.

"Oh, Severus, perhaps we underestimate the wonders young wizards can achieve," Dumbledore said humorously, polishing his glasses. "Harry, this magic of yours… Can it be used on others? Could you summon the souls of others?"

This was the real question. Dumbledore's gaze was sharp, probing for the truth.

"Yes," Harry replied simply. "As long as there's a blood connection and love and longing, their ancestors will answer the call."

"Oh… not exactly ancestors…" Dumbledore murmured under his breath.

"Would you like me to perform the ritual for you, Headmaster?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

For a long moment, Dumbledore was silent. Finally, he shook his head. "Not for now." Then, as if to change the subject, he added, "Incidentally, the Ministry summoned me today because of an anomaly in the Death Chamber at the Department of Mysteries—a place where wizards study the mysteries of death."

His gaze returned to Harry, heavy with meaning. "The disturbance occurred this afternoon—shortly after your ritual, I suspect."

The implication was clear.

"I know you're talented, Harry—far beyond your years," Dumbledore said sincerely. "But I must ask you to use this power cautiously. Will you?"

"Of course," Harry agreed. "If you ever need my help, Headmaster, just let me know. I'll be happy to assist."

Dumbledore seemed satisfied, though the question of why he refused Harry's offer lingered. Perhaps it was a matter of privacy, or perhaps something else entirely.

As Dumbledore and Snape took their leave, Harry bowed slightly. "May the Earth Mother watch over you."

Snape, glancing repeatedly at Lily's spirit, walked out reluctantly.

Magic was still magic, Harry mused. He would never bind his parents' souls to remain with him, knowing they couldn't linger long. Lily, however, wished to speak to her sister, Petunia, before departing.

How Petunia would react to seeing her sister's spirit? Well, Harry was already upstairs when that encounter took place. Whatever shrieks or crashes came from downstairs, he paid them no mind.

He had more important things to do—like studying. Wizarding textbooks were fascinating.

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